


morning takes the most

by sixwhiteroses



Series: like a thunder [2]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: ATEEZ Storyline Event, Abstract, Dark ATEEZ Ensemble, Dark San, Darkteez, Denial of Feelings, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fake x Real Ateez, Fluff, Forbidden Love, Kinda, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, No Plot/Plotless, Secret Relationship, Self-Indulgent, Soft Choi San, Soft Jung Wooyoung, Soulmates, Woosan, i fucking love woosan, this got so soft oh my god
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-29
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:53:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,880
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27787042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sixwhiteroses/pseuds/sixwhiteroses
Summary: The morning is a thief, Wooyoung always knew that.And now, he is feeling it more than ever.And now, as he lies there with the love of his life sleeping in his embrace, feeling the coming morning light tickle the blinds, he knows he will be stolen from once again.
Relationships: Choi San/Jung Wooyoung
Series: like a thunder [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2032915
Comments: 3
Kudos: 20





	morning takes the most

**Author's Note:**

> omg guess who's alive
> 
> i bet the ppl who subscribe got excited this was a new bucks n kicks part but no unfortunately not
> 
> i've actually had this completed and saved for like six months now,,, and today i reread it and just figured there is not a way of me changing it that would feel right,,, it just,, has to be like this.
> 
> so imma just drop it because i feel like it,,, just to get it off my chest.
> 
> i love woosan so much and im not over the pirate/darkteez storyline so heres me holding on to that
> 
> enjoy<333

It‘s quiet.

Undisturbed silence cradles the room through the darkness of the night, keeping the pair of sleep-delved breaths the only hint of sound.

They’re calm, steady, blending together in the momentary peace.

Until one of them is broken apart, the pace slipping up to a few whines.

Until a scream rips through the silence, tearing the pleasant heaviness into pieces in a moment of panic, and as fast as it rises, another voice joins, sounding with soothing words and cooing.

Wooyoung got used to being woken up by a shaking lump in his arms, one night or the other accompanied by sobs and shrieks. It’s become fairly common.

That doesn’t mean it ever became any less painful.

“San,” Wooyoung breathes gently, his voice barely audible through the blur of half-asleep sobs and whines coming from San, still not fully awake from his nightmare, thrashing in Wooyoung’s embrace.

“San,” Wooyoung repeats with the same tenderness, but more clarity this time. He became good at this – staying gentle, being careful not to startle San any further, but still making sure his voice would reach him in the depths of his nightmares. It took longer some days, took a single call of San’s name and a kiss on the forehead other days.

“Sani, baby.”

With a shivering breath, San’s eyes finally seem to open and clear up, zoning in on Wooyoung’s face in front of him. There’s sheer panic in San’s eyes, tearing through his features, and it aches like nothing else for Wooyoung to realize how heartbreakingly vulnerable and terrified San looks.

He never looks like this, he’s not supposed to look like this.

“I’m here, you’re okay,” Wooyoung says, the whisper reassuring yet firm, clearer than the slowly dissolving remains of San’s bad dream, and the terror in his lover’s eyes finally begins to fade.

“They’re gonna take you away from me,” sounds the first of San’s broken voice, raspy from the screaming and still tinted with leftover fear, as if recalling the dream refilled him with new wave of panic. “They’re gonna- they-“

“Shhh, they’re not, I’m right here,” Wooyoung repeats for the millionth time, not growing tired. He leans forward, closing San’s frame into his chest like into a shield, his fingers running over the taut of San’s shoulders. In motions so benign that Wooyoung feels San’s breath hitch, he runs his palm down the curve of San’s back. He rubs his hand up and down, his lips but a kiss away from San’s cheek, right next to his ear, breathing more words of comfort.

“I’m here, baby. I’m right here.”

“Don’t- don’t leave me,” San’s voice breaks again. He takes a deep breath, his small fists clutching the front of Wooyoung’s shirt like a lifeline, holding on for dear life. Holding like it’s the last time he gets to do so, like letting go would mean he’d get torn away and never returned.

“I’m not,” Wooyoung assures him. A kiss can be heard, landed on San’s wet cheek, swollen with sobs from before. “I’m right here. It’s okay.”

“I thought-“

“It was a dream, baby. You’re fine, I got you.”

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. Shh, it’s alright. I got you.”

“I’m sorry.”

The two barely audible words hurt so profoundly and terribly that Wooyoung’s features involuntarily stiffen, eyes stinging with tears beginning to claw out. It hurts so, so badly to hear such a wrecked apology, apology uttered when there’s no place for it in the first place.

“Don’t be.”

“I’m-“

“Shh. Go to sleep. I’m here, I’m holding you. I’m right here.”

“Wooyoung-“

“I love you. I love you so much, Sani. Go back to sleep, I got you, love.”

Accompanied by a few quiet, feathery kisses placed on San’s cheeks and forehead, the last of Wooyoung’s words are the ones that finally break through the last of his nightmare blur, reaching his heart and cradling it back to sleep.

And soon enough, there’s silence again, silence, besides the pair of breaths filling out the room.

But this time, only one of them carries on steadily and calmly, snoring and sniffling ever so lightly.

The other one is barely audible.

Quick, shallow, stiff.

Terrified.

_______________________________

What Wooyoung hates the most are mornings.

Mornings take the most. They take, take, take, leaving him gasping for more each night. They take the warm embrace and soft touches, they take the soothing words and soft kisses. Take the heated breaths and clouds of steam, the minutes of fire and crackling pleasure, and carry them away, far, until they are so far they are unreachable until the next night.

The morning is a thief, Wooyoung always knew that.

And now, he is feeling it more than ever.

And now, as he lies there with the love of his life sleeping in his embrace, feeling the coming morning light tickle the blinds, he knows he will be stolen from once again.

Shifting backwards, a rueful gaze settles upon his face as his sight lands on San's face, his features exceptionally soft and relaxed. His breathing quiet and slow, Wooyoung knows that at least for now, San is sleeping peacefully. Oblivious to the morning creeping up on them and looking to carry their breaths and caresses away.

Wooyoung's eyes shift towards the window, the greyish light sneaking in, and he has to swallow a bitter taste.

He wishes it could be night forever. Just night, darkness. Like San. Tender, quiet, loving. Yet terrifying, thrilling, ominous. He glances down yet again, his chest swelling at the sight of San's lashes fluttering in his sleep, and when his eyebrows twitch ever so slightly, Wooyoung knows that San is now trembling just beneath the surface of consciousness.

He sighs, hand traveling to tuck a few stray hairs behind San's ear, elongating the gesture into a caress of his lover's head, hand getting lost in the soft hair. He hums.

Wooyoung doesn't like thinking about the future. Not about the present, even. He hates being aware, hates facing the reality. For he's terrified, not for himself, not for the others, as unforgivingly selfish that is.

He's terrified for San.

Terrified of having him taken away, scared for his life that there will come a day when he won't be able to hold him close.

With another stroke of Wooyoung's hand behind San's ear, the elder seems to stir awake, a shivery blink of his eyes being the evidence.

As his eyes open they instantly zero in on Wooyoung's face above him, the momentary flash of panic from awakening instantly gone as he recognizes the familiar face.

"Good morning, love."

San's response is but a whine and then his eyes close again, face pushing into Wooyoung's neck in a sleepy, slow nuzzle. Wooyoung laughs.

He laughs softly, fondly, and saddens immediately afterwards, for he's already anticipating the ending of it. He wonders whether it's alright, whether it's a love that's worth it, if it always, with no fault, ends up making him so blue.

He saddens, for he doesn't recognize San like this - doesn't recognize him, compared to the hungry eyes and enthralling yet dangerous aura he had when they first met.

He saddens, because all this means one thing - how vulnerable San is now, how dependent he's become on Wooyoung and how he slips each night, letting the façade fall off and letting the helpless emotions show.

It's only then, though - once San is fully awake, he pushes it back again. Not the feelings, but the expression of them.

Sobs and shivers become smirks and snarks. Hugs and caresses become love bites and grabbing. Submission becomes dominance. San becomes himself again, except in love.

Right, it always hits Wooyoung so bluntly and suddenly. It's because San is _in love_ , disturbingly and unexpectedly so, something so foreign to him that he's struggling with ways to control it, to cope with it.

And one of the ways is the switch up that happens sometime around sunrise, maybe an hour or two after.

Mornings take the most, because once San is out of his sleepy daze and nightmares no longer blur out his pride, he acts like those hugs, those shivery confessions of vulnerability and weakness, those pleads for Wooyoung not to leave him, never happened.

_________________________

Sometimes, San wakes up first.

It’s nearly as rare as him getting a full night of undisturbed sleep, but it happens.

And if it happens, it ironically happens the night after San screams himself awake – because from the awakening through the crying fit to the eventual drift back to sleep, Wooyoung is awake. Even after San is finally back asleep, relaxed and calm at least in the smallest measure, Wooyoung is still awake.

Some days, he stays awake until San wakes up again, this time properly.

But most days, Wooyoung manages to fall asleep only hours after San. Hence why when San is awake, Wooyoung is still getting his deserved few hours of rest.

San feels a certain way about it, and it’s not pleasant. He feels guilty about it, and it makes him shiver. He hates this, hates the heaviness of the feelings he was not built for. It’s exhausting, to carry them all – love, fear, helplessness, guilt, affection, uncertainty, panic, tenderness. They’re violent and powerful, each and every one of them holding a whirlwind of its own, and they’re too, too damn much. He’s not built for it – he was never supposed to feel them.

At times like these, a thought creeps into his head, a thought so daring that he instantly condemns it. But it’s there. It stays there, and the more he pushes it back, the more he believes it.

As he sits up and stretches, blinking himself awake, the heaviness of the night hits, and for a split second, he feels like he’s going to all apart again unless he crawls back into Wooyoung’s embrace. Instead, he takes a breath, swallows, blinks. Takes a breath again. He cleans his mind, tries not to give in to the reverberating remains of the nightmares, tries not to break. He can’t, he shouldn’t.

Should he wake Wooyoung up? Or maybe just nudge him? He wants his attention now, but also knows Wooyoung needs to sleep too. There is the ever-present battle of his two sides, and the second one, the one that gets tender urges, was not meant to exist in the first place.

But it does. And so, San often gets urges he doesn’t quite understand either.

His eyes fall on Wooyoung’s face, softening at the sight of his features relaxed. A few strands of hair obstruct the view of his eyes, his lips ajar, soft breaths leaving them.

He wants to kiss him. San _always_ wants to kiss him. It makes his insides twist and mind race, it makes him tremble with effort not to give in yet wanting nothing else. San wants to kiss him so badly, wants _him_ so badly, it’s always Wooyoung. It’s always the warmth of his body and light of his being, it’s all San ever thinks about.

He smacks his mouth, eyes lingering on Wooyoung’s lips. San knows he can kiss him – on the cheek, on the forehead, on the lips. On the neck, on the chest, on the hip. Anywhere and everywhere, he can, because it’s _his_ Wooyoung, because Wooyoung wants to be his and kisses San no differently.

But it’s stopping him, God, it’s stopping him and hitting the brakes and holding him back. His head falls into his palms, shaking with frustration.

He doesn’t want it, he doesn’t want himself. Doesn’t want the darkness, the ugliness that lies beneath, he doesn’t want it.

Which only further feeds the thought, the idea that this might be what’s supposed to happen.

That Wooyoung is supposed to fix him like this, to beat the darkness – and it would only make sense that it should hurt.

San looks up, checks Wooyoung – he doesn’t want to wake him up, after all.

Yet he can’t resist leaning down and planting a soundless kiss on Wooyoung’s cheek, hoping not to stir him awake. San lingers, lips pressed into his lover’s skin, and he doesn’t think. He doesn’t want to. Rather, he inhales. Inhales the fuzzy, sweet scent that always clings to Wooyoung. It smells like forgiveness, like good memories, like summer nights. Things San has never known before his and Wooyoung’s paths crossed.

Finally pulling away, he takes another shaky breath to cool him down, and out of nowhere, a fond half-smile creeps on his face. Perhaps prompted by the realization of how deeply and helplessly in love he is, he emits a small giggle, even.

It’s a turn of events, it’s hard to endure, it hurts in every way possible, because it goes against his nature. It takes breaking and folding and forming and loving and hurting and holding, it takes so much, but in the end, it’s right. It must be right.

He knows it’s right.

___________________________

It’s inevitable.

When two people are in love, and what’s more, love forbidden and rocky, a spark is bound to ignite.

San and Wooyoung are no different.

Surprisingly, it was Wooyoung who felt his spark burst first, it was him who began initiating the kisses with more hunger and making the embraces deeper than deep. San never protested – why would he? They both had a clear view of what they wanted. So when the sparks came with more intensity, when they started awakening a desire for _more_ in both of them, neither of them fought it.

San now knows the dynamic they took, and he is not surprised to see how drastically it changed from their first times.

Of course, they were both curious and reckless at first, but it was Wooyoung who made the first move towards the more physical bit of their affair.

Tentatively, scared for sure, but the more thrilled, loving the danger San brought with him and being unapologetically attracted to it. He was drawn to it, wanted to taste it, to drown in it. Wanted it on every inch of his body until he felt tainted enough to be worthy of San. It was quick, and hungry, and hot, and he _loved_ it. San, of course, gladly accepted his advances.

Except since then, their roles established, their personalities came to surface, their nature started shining through. San was never more himself, his dark, filthy self, than when he had Wooyoung under him, begging for mercy, crying with both desperation and pleasure.

And now, as San nudges the drowsy Wooyoung after another night of intermittent sleep and a few tears, it’s in effect, much like San’s drastic change of character.

If he should be honest with himself, Wooyoung is conflicted every time they start roaming around the territory of physical pleasure. Every time a kiss gets deeper, every time an article of clothing falls off, every time a shaky breath is drawn, he feels conflicted.

Because he wants it, wants it so, _so_ badly, needs it, needs San in all aspects of his life. Wants him all over, with him, on top of him, inside him, holding him by the neck and spilling fire into his core, pulling his hair and rising tears in his eyes. He knows that it’s yet another way of San coping with the gradual loss of his nature. He knows it’s an anchor for San to cling to, an occasion where he gets the chance to ruin Wooyoung and have him all to his mercy – just like it was supposed to be in the beginning. Wooyoung knows all of this. Yet still, he wants to surrender to every part of San’s being.

But he knows that behind the force of nature that San is, lies something so painfully fragile and scarred, that Wooyoung is not sure what to believe anymore. Every tingle of pleasure stings with guilt, because he knows that under the man that’s giving him the pleasure trembles a broken soul with need for nothing else but Wooyoung and his love. Wooyoung, to remind him that at times, it’s alright to let the grip soften and turn bites into kisses, to turn fire into nothing more than raw, true lovemaking.

And love - to light up the darkness and to convince him that it’s alright for him to let go.

“San,” Wooyoung feels his voice escape his throat with no cue, so quickly that it shocks him. But once it’s out, Wooyoung knows this his chance – he rarely has the courage to confront San on a matter like this.

It stops San in his ministrations – trailing kisses down Wooyoung’s neck – and prompts him to lift his head. A question instantly whirs in his eyes when his sight falls on Wooyoung’s face.

“What’s wrong?”

For a second, doubts emerge and Wooyoung wants to say nothing. Nothing is wrong, after all. San has just shown him, after all – nothing is wrong, because the two words he just asked were uttered with such care that Wooyoung is sure nothing in this world could possibly be any less than completely right.

But it is, and so he sighs.

“Do you really love me?”

It’s a question so blatantly unnecessary that for a moment, San forgets to answer.

“I- of course,” San says finally, immediately sitting up to brush a gentle touch on Wooyoung’s cheek, “more than anything.”

As those words are spoken, it seems to snap an epiphany in San’s eyes, and as they clear up, Wooyoung’s heart shivers. It’s unbelievable, what they’ve achieved – from the being of darkness, from all the rotten personified, to a man so terribly in love, so willing to sacrifice anything for Wooyoung. It was beautiful and scary in equal measure.

“I love you more than anything in the world,” San repeats, as if solidifying it for himself as well.

“Then let it go,” Wooyoung whispers, and it nearly sounds like he’s begging. He is begging. His palm travels to the side of San’s face to pull him closer, and as he does, he swiftly plants a kiss on San’s lips, like a little reminder that he’s there. “Let it go.”

For a moment, San hesitates. It almost seems like flashbacks of all the sleepless nights and waking up screaming in fear hit him all at once. Like everything that he was supposed to be suddenly tries to pull him back. But with one glance back to Wooyoung’s face it occurs to him just how freeing it will be – to let it go.

“It’s supposed to be like this, isn’t it? You were meant to fix me.”

Wooyoung nods, relief flooding him upon San’s words. He leans forward heavily, his forehead leaning against San’s. They breathe together.

“Yes. We’re not wrong, San. It has to be like this, and I will not give it up,” Wooyoung assures.

For a moment, there’s a space between their lips, barely there, but still present. Silence falls, and they bask in it. It’s strange, San notices – how light he suddenly feels. There’s an odd sense of comfort that comes with the acceptance, with the momentary certainty.

“It will be okay,” Wooyoung assures again. It’s become his thing, to assure San.

“Okay.”

“You’re mine. Remember that. You’re mine, and I won’t let anyone take you from me.”

“Yes, okay.”

“I know you’re scared, I know it’s a lot,” Wooyoung sighs, still murmuring into San’s lips.

Their eyes are closed, their hands anchored behind each other’s ears, lips only a breath apart. It’s quite a magical moment, and Wooyoung dares to think it’s a turning moment as well.

“But I promise you it’s alright,” he continues, accompanying his words by gentle strokes of San’s cheek, “I’m right here, and no one is going to make me leave you. I promise you that with my soul. I love you so much. Please let it go. I know you want to, and I know you can do it. I love you.”

“I love you too,” San replies. It’s hurried, like he doesn’t want to leave space for doubt. Wooyoung knows he doesn’t.

“Then please. Let it go.”

“I- I will. Okay, I’ll try.”

“Okay. I love you. I’m not going to leave you, I’m not.”

San nods. He trusts Wooyoung. Unconditionally and blindly, one would say, but it’s only suiting for now. The only thing they have is each other and trust.

“They won’t find out,” San whispers, repeating the mantra of reassurance between the two of them. This time, it’s him that closes the minimal distance between their shivering lips, and another quiet kiss echoes.

“I don’t care if they do,” sounds Wooyoung’s voice after the kiss is broken, leaving San wordless. Pulling away, question in his eyes, he tilts his head at Wooyoung.

“I don’t,” Wooyoung repeats the words. With his palm roaming into San’s hair, it’s easy for him to encourage San to lean his head forward and fall right on Wooyoung’s shoulder, pulling him into a securing hug. “I really don’t. Let them find out. They’re never going to take you from me.”

Wooyoung feels San nod into his shoulder, followed by a stiffer motion – somewhat of a tremble, and for a moment of panic and rue, Wooyoung thinks San is crying.

Instead, as San gently pushes himself away, Wooyoung sees him smile. It’s rather unexpected, and it surely surprises Wooyoung for a moment, maybe even scares him – once, everything was a red flag. When San laughs out of a moment, it’s always a chilling reminder of what San was in the first place. Someone capable of laughs, of hunger, of lust, but not in the right sense of way.

But now, it is right – they both know it’s right, the smile on San’s face is laced with confusion yet ecstasy, and he hiccups, leaning his lips back against Wooyoung’s.

“What?”

“Nothing. I’m just…happy.”

There’s a pause before the last word, word so foreign for San to say. And as it finally falls, San’s face paints with what resembles disbelief, disbelief at his words being true to his feelings. And Wooyoung, Wooyoung’s heart shivers, sings, screams. _Happy_. San feels happy. San was not supposed to feel at all, let alone feel happy.

Yet he is now – feeling happy, feeling safe, feeling in love.

There’s too much for San to feel, the heavy, the light – but it’s happening. It was not meant to, but it is. And Wooyoung is not sure he will ever believe that it’s his doing.

“Look where you got me,” San mumbles, the smile audible in his whisper. Wooyoung responds with but a breathy giggle, fingers hooking under San’s chin. Their lips join yet again, but with the tension falling off, this time they allow the passion to creep into the kiss.

It tastes like victory, the kiss. Wooyoung slips a moan into it, one he can’t control. The kiss tastes wild and raw, like pure want and fear, but also like the tenderest of love.

The kiss tastes like San.

“Where did I get you?” Wooyoung asks as they pull away for a moment, San’s palms already sliding down Wooyoung’s waistline, the tips of his fingers grazing the bare skin underneath. A smirk tugs at his lips.

“To my better self.”

**Author's Note:**

> I always feel this odd sense of comfort after reading this
> 
> there is not a real plot, no explanation - just that san is overcoming his darkteez nature for love. all for wooyoung. like they genuinely just love each other so much,,,,,, gah this is the beauty of writing, you can make ANYTHING,,, 
> 
> anyway, this took a COMPLETELY different turn than I initially intended, but im not mad at it. like at all. idk i dont like hurting my characters ig
> 
> anyway thanku for reading, if ur waiting for bucks and kicks, i have 5000 words written so wait a few more centuries and once i get my shit together, catch up on school, get my uni applications thru, get over my procrastination and kick my own ass, its over for u bitches


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